I found a loaf of bread on the kitchen counter today. It’s oddly àpropos for the situation I’m in at the moment so I had to give a bit of laugh.

Riding back from the office on Thursday I had the thing that all motorcyclists dread: the zero-mile-hour-tipover. With traffic watching. Matilda decided to take a quick nap.

Taking a step back I have a 600-pound+ bike. It’s quite the handful. If you use the wrong form it’s almost impossible to lift it. You back your butt into the seat and you walk it up with your legs.

I did this. Quickly. Within around 10 seconds the bike was back up on its wheels and another few seconds I was remounted and motoring away. Normally the process takes perhaps twice as long… but it would be a crime to let people see the bike on its side. Motoring away with a badly pulled left thigh muscle. That night my back hurt too, but from there on it was just the leg.

Then I look at the bread.

Yep. Pain du George.

Then I take another couple Advil.